


apology

by claimedbydaryl



Series: all forms of communication [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grinding, M/M, Riding, Smut, ft. tender emotional support, its sounds dirty but its pretty mellow, just two dudes being dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:23:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8620804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claimedbydaryl/pseuds/claimedbydaryl
Summary: Oikawa thinks he disappointed Iwaizumi, and decides to make it up to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is set after chapter 6 of [message sent](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8160638/chapters/18700820), so check that out for better context on thE SEX (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞

Pausing at the threshold of their bedroom, Oikawa watched Iwaizumi lick his finger before turning a page of the book he held. Iwaizumi was resting against the headboard of his and Oikawa’s shared bed, his figure cast in the dim light emanating from his bedside lamp. The muscles of his arms shifted, straining with movement as turned another page, his tan skin a deep, warm colour in the golden light.

“The fuck are you staring at?” Iwaizumi asked, not even deigning to look up, or move.

“You,” Oikawa said, feeling his mouth curve into a sensuous shape.

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows, although he continued to focus his sole attention on the book he was reading, and not Oikawa’s slow approach towards him. Oikawa tugged the sheets from Iwaizumi’s form, so when he straddled the latter all that separated skin from skin was a thin layer of fabric between them.

Most times, Oikawa was glad for how his and Iwaizumi’s relationship relied on unspoken communication, knowing each other’s emotions through nuanced actions, or the slightest change in expression. But, there was also moments where he wanted Iwaizumi to _look_ at him, or be surprised, or fail to find words beyond half-hearted insults.

Sighing, Iwaizumi placed his book face-down on his bedside table, acknowledging that Oikawa was, in fact, in his lap. Iwaizumi’s hands slid over the exposed skin of Oikawa’s thighs, cupping the supple shape in the steadfast scope of palms, grounding Oikawa to his touch. One of Iwaizumi’s thumbs snuck beneath the hem of Oikawa’s boxer briefs, daring to breach the boundary but lacking the intent to travel further, to do more than tease.

“It’s too cold to just be wearing this.”

Oikawa felt the urge to preen under Iwaizumi’s sweeping gaze, bending his spine so his abdomen tightened, ensuring his bare torso was in Iwaizumi’s direct, unbroken view. Satisfaction surged in Oikawa when Iwaizumi’s hand abandoned his leg to run down the line of his chest, then back up, tracing the protruding shape of his collarbone.

It was a kind of silent worship, Oikawa surmised, as Iwaizumi drew a constellation of unseen patterns over his skin, leaving a roadmap of touch-sensitive lines in his wake. Oikawa held a baited breath, feeling like the moment—or himself—would shatter if he moved.

Instead, he caught Iwaizumi’s hand at his wrist, bringing it to his mouth to place a benevolent kiss against his knuckles. Soon after, Iwaizumi leaned forward to replace his fingers with his own mouth against Oikawa’s cheek, his lips a soft and reassuring pressure.

“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi asked, speaking in a low, rumbling tone too close to Oikawa’s ear.

Oikawa slid his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck in lieu of a response, leaning into the natural heat of his body. He wished Iwaizumi wasn’t wearing a singlet, the highlighted definition of his biceps be damned—he wanted skin contact, he wanted something tangible.

“ _Tooru._ ” Iwaizumi pulled back, just far enough so he could look at Oikawa.

“I just… wanted to make it up to you, for disappointing you.”

Iwaizumi hesitated for a beat, but Oikawa wouldn’t look away from the point of his shoulder, so he reached to encircle Oikawa’s waist, enfolding him into an unbreakable embrace.

“Suga forgave you pretty quick,” Iwaizumi murmured, “and I did too.” His fingers splayed across Oikawa’s back like a protective brand, his touch a blazing-hot claim of possession.

Oikawa made a noise of assent, unwilling to separate himself further from Iwaizumi.

“Then why are you still feeling guilty?”

Oikawa nuzzled into Iwaizumi’s thick tufts of hair. “You know me and my worthless pride.”

Huffing, Iwaizumi remained silent, seeming to be appeased with Oikawa’s paltry answer. Oikawa thought that maybe Iwaizumi supposed it was enough that he had simply understood and accepted the possible repercussions of his actions, and was repenting for it.

“You don’t always have to carry the weight of the world alone, Asskawa.”

“Are you saying I need to rely on your big, strong arms, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa teased.

“You should rely on me,” Iwaizumi said flatly, “I’m your fucking boyfriend.”

The teasing light of Oikawa’s smile faded as he recognised the serious cast of Iwaizumi’s expression, and the thread of masked hurt beneath of his words. Guilt settled like a heavy accusation deep in his stomach, twisting his insides, and he could do nothing but reach forward, needing to prove to Iwaizumi that he meant more than a cheap joke.

Oikawa’s arms wrapped around Iwaizumi, and he pressed close so there was nothing left between them—no space, no doubt. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “You know I’ll always need you by my side, Hajime. I love you.”

After a moment of frightening stillness, Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa closer with a sudden fierceness, his face pressed into Oikawa’s neck like a child would. He murmured something nonsensical into Oikawa’s skin, most likely calling him a piece of shit rather than returning heartfelt endearments.

Oikawa indulged in the few minutes Iwaizumi allowed him to run his hand along his muscled back in soothing strokes, basking in the familiar, comforting heat of him. When Iwaizumi sighed into his neck, his limbs loose and relaxed, Oikawa asked, “Are you gonna kiss me now?”

Snorting, Iwaizumi straightened until he could nudge into Oikawa like a touch-starved animal, his mouth pressing into a tender shadow of a real kiss. It was clear Iwaizumi didn’t expect their romantic endeavours to surpass this gentle, languid kissing, but Oikawa had other plans—naked ones.

He pressed forward until Iwaizumi had no choice but to angle his head, matching the force of Oikawa’s passion with his own. Oikawa had forgone all previous chaste contact for insistent pressure, knowing that continuing to kiss like this would lead to the inevitable path of _more_ —teeth, hands, tongue, cock.

As Iwaizumi’s hand supported the base of Oikawa’s skull now, the action prompted him to nip at Iwaizumi’s bottom lip, the unaccounted presence of incisors causing his mouth to open. Oikawa seized the opportunity with a renewed vigour, his tongue sliding inside Iwaizumi, the slick heat of it igniting a low simmer of arousal at Oikawa’s centre. His groin throbbed, once, his piqued interest evident in the bulge he grinded into Iwaizumi with.

Iwaizumi moaned, so soft Oikawa almost missed the echo of sound reverberating through him, but he didn’t need to strain to find his building desire wasn't merely one-sided. Using his spare hand, Iwaizumi pushed Oikawa’s lower back into him, until their pelvises rocked into each other. An excited thrill spiked through Oikawa’s abdomen as he felt Iwaizumi’s own erection pressing into his, tenting the thin fabric of his cotton pyjama pants.

The intent behind their heated kisses was an obvious prelude to better, dirtier things, so Oikawa wasted no time in grinding into Iwaizumi. It was a test of pressure and contact, his hips rolling in a seductive circle that made Oikawa’s breath stutter, Iwaizumi swearing under his breath too. He redoubled his efforts at the first sign of Iwaizumi’s fraying composure, and then he was grinding into Iwaizumi hard, ensuring his sole attention was fixed on Oikawa.

He was unable to curb the high-pitched moan which tumbled from his lips as Iwaizumi bit his lip, staring at Oikawa with an animalistic possession. Iwaizumi looked like he wanted to mark the canvas of Oikawa’s smooth skin, to suck bruises into his flesh until Oikawa could do naught but remember the impression of Iwaizumi on him whenever he moved for the next week. Emboldened under the steady line of Iwaizumi’s gaze, Oikawa arched his back, his body a sensuous image of clean, muscled lines, an invitation to entice touch and honeyed compliments.

Iwaizumi was only human, and he couldn’t do more than blurt out, “Fucking hell, Tooru, you’re—”

Oikawa flashed a self-satisfied grin. “What, Hajime?” He prompted, still rocking into Iwaizumi, revelling in each short, soft grunt it pulled from his chest. “Were you going to tell me I’m beautiful? That I’m pretty?”

“You’re pretty fucking annoying.”

Oikawa smacked Iwaizumi’s arm lightly in faux affront. “Iwa-chan, that’s not how foreplay works!”

Fingers reaching for the bend of Oikawa’s knees, Iwaizumi jerked Oikawa forward. “How about instead I fuck you on your back, _hard_ , over and over again until you’re begging for it? Until all you can feel is me, inside you, fucking deep within you.” His tone was dangerous, a low, rumbling sound that travelled straight to Oikawa’s cock.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Oikawa managed to articulate a semi-coherent response, “As much as I’d like to lay back and see you do all the work, I have a better idea.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow but made no outward move to argue against Oikawa’s suggestion. They both knew Iwaizumi would follow through on his promise next time anyway.

Oikawa indulged in the last few moments he had to continue rutting into Iwaizumi, reminiscing over the first occasions they had done this, fooling around in their bedrooms as dumb and stupid-happy kids. Then, with a final kiss pressed to Iwaizumi’s welcoming lips, Oikawa shifted backwards.

“Are you—”

“Knees up,” Oikawa ordered, and Iwaizumi complied in a commendable response time.

Clenching his hands to ignore the throb of his neglected erection, of the wet patch at the front of his briefs, Oikawa knelt between the wide span of Iwaizumi’s legs.

“You don’t have to—”

“Hajime,” Oikawa said, halting him. He revelled in how Iwaizumi’s pupils darkened at the sight of him, bent low between his open thighs with wet, kiss-red lips. “I want to.”

Oikawa nipped at the skin of Iwaizumi’s stomach, teasing, attuned to how Iwaizumi’s breaths stuttered at each application of scraping teeth. He continued until Iwaizumi’s abdomen was a patchwork of dark, possessive marks, taking a moment to admire his work, before surging upwards. A noise of pleased surprise escaped Iwaizumi’s throat as Oikawa kissed him, their bodies aligning for a moment of breathtaking friction, erections rubbing together.

Pulling back, Oikawa felt his mouth form a leering grin as he was greeted with the sight of Iwaizumi’s flushed expression, pliable and responsive beneath his touch. Oikawa dipped closer to steal another fleeting kiss, smiling so much it was more teeth than flesh. Noting Oikawa’s utter delight, Iwaizumi shoved Oikawa’s head down to dispel his amusement, scowling as Oikawa laughed into the clothed crease of his groin.

“Rude, Iwa-chan!”

“I thought it was Hajime.” Iwaizumi hated how his voice wavered as Oikawa’s fingers slipped past the hem of his cotton pants, tugging them down and throwing the clothing aside.

“Sorry,” Oikawa ensured Iwaizumi was looking down at him when he spoke, his chest heaving, thighs shaking on either side of his shoulders. “ _Hajime_.” On the last drawling syllable of Iwaizumi’s name, Oikawa opened his mouth and swallowed.

Straining against the bedsheets, Iwaizumi’s grunt of choked pleasure was a gravel-rough sound. Attempting to control the widening span of his smile, and not to use teeth,  _no teeth_ , Oikawa’s head bobbed along Iwaizumi’s length. He knew—intimately—that Iwaizumi had never been interested in artful flicks of the tongue, or theatrical moans, but he liked contact.

Iwaizumi preferred to indulge in the simple connection between two people. He liked the half-moon imprints of Oikawa’s fingernails on his thigh, and the steady, sure path of his tongue, and the deliberate flickering of his gaze upwards to meet his own.

A heavy breath hissed through Iwaizumi’s clenched teeth as his head tipped back. Oikawa felt fingers threading into his hair, a gentle urge for him to continue. However, Oikawa didn’t want Iwaizumi to be compliant, he wanted him to be demanding. He wanted Iwaizumi to unravel, to fuck with unapologetic relent, to grip onto Oikawa without the intention of letting go.

Opting for an aggressive approach, Oikawa hastened the motion of his bobbing head, flattening his tongue to the hot, smooth weight of Iwaizumi’s cock. His fingers wrapped around the throbbing flesh he couldn’t reach with his mouth, causing Iwaizumi’s breath to catch, stuttering in his chest. Oikawa suppressed a growing smile, instead choosing to focus on more pressing matters than his own satisfaction at having elicited an outward reaction from Iwaizumi.

Oikawa’s cheeks hollowed out, the suction causing Iwaizumi to jerk forward, accidentally tugging Oikawa’s hair. “Sorry,” he said in a hoarse voice, like a belated apology.

Humming in understanding response, Oikawa slowed the motion of his head, licking over Iwaizumi’s tip to soothe his worries. Iwaizumi groaned, flexing his hands, striving to gentle his hold on Oikawa, not to hurt him. Despite the one-sidedness of blowjobs, the appeal to Oikawa was this—knowing he could bring Iwaizumi to the teetering brink of pleasure, shivering beneath each flick and slide of his tongue.

Regarding the shake in Iwaizumi’s thighs and the rough cadence of his breathing, Oikawa wanted to edge him closer. He relaxed his throat, plunging deeper than he had before. The sound which was torn from Iwaizumi was almost animal, but he relented from releasing down Oikawa’s throat, instead pulling him up, their mouths melding together in a clash of teeth and flesh.

“Don’t you want me to?” Oikawa panted between kisses. He failed to apply any form of technique when Iwaizumi’s slick tongue was pushing past the seam of his lips, coaxing Oikawa’s mouth open, to feel him accept Iwaizumi into him.

“No, it’s fine.” Iwaizumi hands slid around Oikawa’s waist, his fingers spread broad over Oikawa’s skin in a hint of pressure. And then he was jerking Oikawa forward into a collision of limbs, Oikawa falling into Iwaizumi’s lap.

Oikawa harrumphed, unimpressed at Iwaizumi’s indelicate display, but then Iwaizumi had diverted his attention to Oikawa’s neck, mouthing at the line of corded muscle there. He keened, high and breathless, as Iwaizumi nipped at the sensitive area beneath Oikawa’s ear at the same moment one of his hands slid down the sweat-damp knobs of his spine.

Oblivious to what existed beyond touch, beyond the heavy scent of Iwaizumi’s sex-thick musk, Oikawa was startled by the sudden wetness that leaked onto his thigh. He was surprised to see Iwaizumi had squeezed a liberal amount of lube onto his fingers with one hand, then proceeding to reach around to Oikawa’s ass, a dangerous grin pressed into his neck.

“I want you,” Iwaizumi admitted, “I just want you, Tooru.”

“Oh— _Oh_ , Hajime.” All teasing remarks fled Oikawa’s mind as Iwaizumi’s fingers breached Oikawa’s waistband, slipping between the cleft of his ass.

Straddling Iwaizumi’s waist, Oikawa pushed him back, providing just enough space between them to see the fire-hot line of his gaze, the raw, unfettered arousal of it. Oikawa’s legs weakened at the sight, but arousal kindled deep in his groin, and he felt the overwhelming, almost competitive need to wreck Iwaizumi as much as he did him.

Ducking his head, Oikawa mouthed at Iwaizumi’s neck, mirroring his earlier action. Iwaizumi growled, his fingers twisting inside Oikawa’s opening. Despite the stuttered gasp which passed Oikawa’s lips, he persisted, sucking Iwaizumi’s skin into a deep flush. He focused on marking a possessive line, teeth sinking into flesh as Iwaizumi delved deeper into him, stretching Oikawa wide.

“ _Tooru_ ,” Iwaizumi warned.

Oikawa leaned backwards, shifting his legs so he had the available flexibility to catch Iwaizumi’s lips mid-pant. He couldn’t seem to grasp feeling or thought beyond Iwaizumi’s fingers pressing inside him, didn’t want to know what could exist besides tanned flesh and the dark flash of blown pupils.

It was an intense emotion, to feel as if Oikawa would be content remaining frozen in this moment with Iwaizumi, that all his base desires narrowed down to one single person. But—Iwaizumi was Oikawa’s strength, his anchor, and he would be lost without him.

“Okay, st—stop,” Oikawa said in halting, erratic breaths. “I’m ready.”

“No condom?”

They had been together long enough to know they didn’t need protection, but the option was still there. “No,” Oikawa said, shaking his head, “don’t want it. Just—you.”

Iwaizumi grunted in acknowledgement, helping Oikawa find a comfortable position after pulling his briefs off and casting them aside. His lips pressed into a thin, tense line at the overwhelming sensation of bare skin sliding together, of the lust burning in his veins, and then Iwaizumi felt a confident, lube-slick hand grasp his cock. Air hissed through his teeth, and Iwaizumi knew he didn’t need to open his eyes to see Oikawa’s smug expression.

He stroked Iwaizumi once, twice, a few times until he could ensure the application of lube was adequate. Oikawa looked up, just for long enough to catch Iwaizumi’s gaze and ascertain their consent to continue was mutual. Iwaizumi nodded, his hands squeezing Oikawa’s hips in reassurance, and Oikawa smiled in response, fleeting and excited.

One of Oikawa’s hands was pressed flat across Iwaizumi’s chest, forcing him to remain still and watch as Oikawa lowered himself down, down, down. He registered the initial burn of resistance, the sting of it, but Iwaizumi’s reaction erased all of Oikawa’s pain. Forcing his eyes to open, Oikawa stared down at Iwaizumi—needing to see every nuanced flicker of emotion, every sign of beautiful, heady pleasure.

“Like what you see?” Oikawa asked, unable to ignore the chance to tease.

Watching his jaw clench shut, and Oikawa was sure Iwaizumi would growl, or grit another comment out between his teeth. Instead, he moved to sit up, but Oikawa’s hand pushed against him, and Iwaizumi pretended to be held in place.

“Well, do you?”

Iwaizumi swallowed as Oikawa slid down, and the latter sighed in strained relief now that he was fused to Iwaizumi at a complete, base level. Attempting to calm his frantic heartbeat, Oikawa feigned seductive charm, smiling even when he felt like Iwaizumi would surge forward and force Oikawa onto his back, robbing him of the little control he still preserved.

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi edged closer, gaze half-lidded and dangerous. Helpless to the sudden closeness of Iwaizumi, to the raw, masculine presence of him, Oikawa allowed Iwaizumi to push his hand aside and sit up.

“Yes, Hajime?” Air had been stolen from his lungs, steadiness faltering in his voice.

Oikawa felt the solid pressure of fingertips skate across his lower back, and then the weight of Iwaizumi’s lips followed later in a whisper of touch against his ear. “Stop it and fucking move already,” Iwaizumi said, kissing his cheek swiftly before sitting back.

Granted the power to do as he wished, Oikawa could set a pace as slow or as fast as he wanted, to coax sounds of defenceless pleasure from deep within Iwaizumi’s chest, to make him beg for it. And so, he rested both hands on Iwaizumi’s abdomen for stable purchase, sharing a giddy, breathless smile with him before, _finally,_ moving _._

Fixated on Iwaizumi inside him, a throb of heat which resonated deep within him, Oikawa braced his knees before rolling his pelvis back and forward. The action was slow, sparking a burst of white-hot contact that made Iwaizumi gasp, fingers digging into Oikawa’s hips. Spurred on by the thought of wrenching the same noise from Iwaizumi’s mouth, but harsher, more instinct than noise, Oikawa repeated the action. Iwaizumi’s jerked upwards, desperate to dispel pent-up tension with shallow thrusts into Oikawa.

“Fuck, Tooru,” Iwaizumi was unable to articulate more than Oikawa’s name, a swear.

Oikawa’s skin was damp with a fine sheen of sweat, the exertion of maintaining a controlled, measured rhythm caused Oikawa’s attention to narrow. All he could hear was Iwaizumi’s laboured panting, all he could feel was the stutter of Iwaizumi’s chest beneath his hands, the tension in his legs, and the desperate grip at his sides.

The sensation of being filled, of Iwaizumi’s cock pressing into him, rivalled the innate possessiveness Oikawa felt at seeing Iwaizumi like this, of knowing only he could witness Iwaizumi succumb to the heady pleasure of sex. Oikawa marvelled at the tanned strength of Iwaizumi before him, revelling in the knowledge that it alone belonged to him, before finding his resolve to widen his legs and rise onto his knees.

Iwaizumi’s head flung backwards as Oikawa started to bounce, his thighs quivering with the strain of position, the irrepressible feeling to move faster, harder, almost a call of instinctual need. Flushed hot and shaking, Oikawa gasped as he arched his back into a delicate bow, knowing he would have to find a tempered pace if he wanted to last.

“Hajime, I’m not going to—” Oikawa bit his lip, a high, wavering gasp silenced as Iwaizumi brushed against the place inside him that sang, his nerves struck like a lit match.

Iwaizumi growled at the sight of Oikawa over him, a masterpiece of pale skin and hair mussed in disarray, his lips red and slick—it was an inviting picture, one he couldn’t resist. He lunged forward, grasping Oikawa by the roots of his hair and pulling their mouths together wetly, without artful technique, merely seeking contact. Iwaizumi alternated the placement of his spare hand to the solid bulk of the mattress so he had the stability to thrust up, drawing a cry of startled astonishment from Oikawa.

Needing to anchor himself to the direct onslaught of pure sensation, his pelvis rocking to meet every point of Iwaizumi’s matching rhythm, Oikawa slid his arms around Iwaizumi’s shoulders. The familiar shape of muscled flesh set his frenzied thoughts to ease, although he still felt too close to the precipice, driven half-mad by the heated sounds of Iwaizumi’s mindless noises of muffled pleasure.

“Hajime, please,” Oikawa pulled back, blearily registering the fact as Iwaizumi’s instinctual reaction was to follow the path of his retreating lips. “I need you to—I want you to—”

“Wait,” Iwaizumi growled, nosing along the corded tendon of Oikawa’s neck. The smell of sweat flooded his sinus, and his tongue swiped along Oikawa’s skin to commit the salty tang of sex to memory, satisfied with Oikawa’s reedy whimper of helpless pleasure.

Oikawa whined, fingers gripping Iwaizumi’s hair tight, feeling like he would break apart if Iwaizumi moved further from his grasp. He instead focused on bouncing in Iwaizumi’s lap, the movements hurried and without finesse—but each thrust of Iwaizumi into him, each point of explosive contact, drove Oikawa closer and closer to the precipice of oblivion.

Unseen to Oikawa, Iwaizumi’s hand was lifting from the mattress, fingers curling around Oikawa’s cock in a loose hold, pumping him in short, frenzied strokes. Oikawa gasped, high-pitched and desperate. Iwaizumi fucked upwards, sealed deep inside Oikawa, brushing his prostate. And then Oikawa’s back was arching, grinding into Iwaizumi’s pelvis to feel every point of fused contact, and he cried out, pleasure blazing through him in an unending wave.

Iwaizumi held Oikawa through the shuddering end of orgasm, continuing to make shallow, abortive thrusts to reach the final peak of his arousal. His limbs lax with blissful release, Oikawa nudged against Iwaizumi’s head, murmuring more monosyllabic nonsense than coherent language.

“Do it, Hajime, I want you to come,” Oikawa managed to say, sounding fucked-out and wrecked. “I want to feel you inside me, filling me, I want you—”

Iwaizumi came with his mouth fitted over Oikawa’s neck, the imprint of teeth marking the moment his building pleasure crested, overflowing into Oikawa. Oikawa felt the muscles of Iwaizumi’s shoulders stiffen, locked into place as a low, wordless grunt escaped his throat, reverberating across the seam of his wet lips against Oikawa’s skin.

After a few moments of respite, Oikawa pulled back, humming at the remnants of electric sensation that sparked at the place he and Iwaizumi were still joined. Oikawa adjusted his grip on Iwaizumi’s hair, guiding his head back so he could watch Iwaizumi's unguarded expression soften, his sharp features mellowed in the golden afterglow of sex.

It was so wonderfully intimate to see Iwaizumi unwound, stripped bare of his perpetual scowl and steely glare. His sharp edges were softened, and he was readier to smile, to reach out and treat Oikawa with the deep, abiding affection he usually reserved for private settings.

“The fuck are you staring at?” The words lacked real bite, his tone more playful than his usual offhand callousness.

It took Oikawa a moment to realise Iwaizumi had repeated what he had said earlier, when Oikawa had been watching him from the bathroom door. He leaned down, unable to contain his growing mirth as Iwaizumi strained upwards to meet Oikawa halfway, their lips pressing together. Although it was more than a light pressure, the meaning was clear.

It was an innocent union of pure, simple affection, a confirmation of what laid beneath—of a lifetime of friendship, of a love that was forged through constant support and trust.

“Come here, you’re going to fall over if you sit up any longer,” Iwaizumi said, effectively breaking the spell. He sat up, hands cupping the bottom of Oikawa’s thighs and urging him up with a gentle care.

Any other time, Oikawa would’ve made an indignant protest at being manhandled, but his limbs were weak and pliant, and he was glad that he could rely on Iwaizumi now. He hissed as Iwaizumi slid out, momentarily despising the sudden lack contact and overwhelming emptiness, leaning into Iwaizumi’s neck to hide his uncomfortable grimace.

Iwaizumi paused. “You okay?”

Oikawa nodded in wordless acquiescence.

There was a beat of silence before Iwaizumi pressed a kiss to Oikawa’s head in conciliation, and then Oikawa’s back was resting against the cool softness of rumpled bedsheets. He murmured to Oikawa to stay put, and then Iwaizumi’s reassuring presence was gone, and Oikawa was blearily rising onto his elbows, searching for him.

“I told you not to move,” Iwaizumi griped when he returned to the bed. He shortened the space between him and Oikawa within a short span of seconds, quick to appease Oikawa’s childish need for contact.

Oikawa’s hand wrapped around the back of Iwaizumi’s neck, fingers curling into the short hair. “You shouldn’t have left me then,” he said, content to have Iwaizumi remain close, wiping him clean with an attentive reverence.

“Would you rather sleep in dried come?”

“I just want to sleep with you.”

Something about the way Oikawa said it, on a whispered breath of hushed truth, made Iwaizumi glance at him. He blinked, seeming to be at a loss for words before Oikawa grinned, reverting to his usual glib self.

“I’d sleep with you, come and all.”

“You’re so fucking gross, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi murmured, reaching back to turn the bedside lamp off. Once the room had been plunged into a quiet darkness, Oikawa felt Iwaizumi’s nose brush his, their legs entangling.

“Love you too, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi snorted into the cradle of Oikawa’s neck, his chest rumbling with laughter, and soon Oikawa was laughing too, and as wordless happiness spilled from both their lips, he began to feel like the night was endless.

**Author's Note:**

> giggity giggity.


End file.
